Nightmare An Inception Fic
by Joy Pedler
Summary: Eames is haunted by nightmares from his past. Nightmares of her. But when she finds him and gives him her baggage for a week he finds he is not so much haunted, but blessed. Mild swearing
1. Chapter 1

She'd been looking at him all day. Eames had noticed almost immediately. He'd noticed her sly smiles as she tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear. He'd been eighteen at the time, and at his first year in college. She was seventeen and in the same course as him. At the time he hadn't yet been to war, nor had he descended into gambling, forgery and criminal antics. That was after.

After that night in her dorm room, after he'd disappeared in the morning, knowing that he couldn't get attached, that it was what he wanted.

To tell the truth he hadn't thought of her since, not for 16 years. He'd dropped out of college the next semester. He'd joined the army in the next 5 months. She hadn't followed him. He didn't contact her, and she didn't contact him. Eames was happy. He didn't want or need attachment.

But now, sitting in the warehouse, trying to concentrate on the subject's grandfather, all he could think about was Alice Cook.

It was his damn subconscious. Last night he'd dreamt. Not with the PASIV, but had actually dreamt. At first he was surprised, he didn't realise that he still had the ability to dream. Then, when he decided to take advantage of his lucid dream, she had appeared. Like that night, it started with her laughter.

He was about to decide whether he wanted a blonde or a brunette when he heard it, a laughter that was soft and gentle and was carried on the wind.

In an instant he was on that same dark pathway, walking slowly as she ran ahead, her laughter drifting back towards him.

It flashed forward to her room, and the hasty removal of clothing. He was like a spectator in his own body, not controlling the events, but rather watching them again. Helpless, like a child he watched as she lay beneath him, chest heaving, head tilted backward.

Again he was flashed forward to the morning, her long dark hair splayed out around her head like a halo; light from in-between the shutters illuminating her face. He pulled on his jeans and shirt, and shoes and jacket in hand he tiptoed out the door, a note reading 'Thanks' left on the small kitchen table.

Now, rather than practicing the mannerisms of Cordelia Bauche's grandfather he was thinking about Alice. Unlike his other one night stands she hadn't begged him for more. She hadn't chased after him or acted like a desperate whore. She had ignored him as much as he'd ignored her. All he knew was that she'd dropped out a few months after him. What had happened to her? He didn't know. He didn't care until the night before.

The worried look on his face was bad enough for the others to notice.

"Something wrong Eames?" Arthur had asked smugly.

"Eames, are you alright?" Ariadne had enquired.

"Why the fuck aren't you working Eames?" Cobb had contributed.

Eames, had made numerous attempts to concentrate, but had failed each and every time.

At around lunch time Eames was about to get into the rhythm.

"Eames, come take a look at this," Cobb stated stiffly, gesturing for Eames to follow him to the security cam.

The others were all crowded around, looking at the screen with intensity like he had never seen before.

"How did she get this address?"

"Isn't the building marked as unoccupied?"

"Eames do you know who that is?" Cobb asked, pointing at a woman standing at the door to the warehouse. She had short, dark hair, a slender frame and was standing impatiently, pressing the buzzer for the warehouse every few seconds.

"She, looks familiar, but I'm not sure," Eames said, frowning slightly, trying to recall where and when he had seen the woman before.

"Eames if this is your problem then you have to go deal with it," Arthur instructed.

Arthur had always loved bossing Eames around. Eames assumed it was because he was constantly teasing Arthur, taunting him with empty throws of words like "darling" and other endearments he was so prone to using.

"I'm not promising anything," he grumbled, making his way towards the stairs. "She looks mad enough to rip someone's head off right now,"

Eames opened the door slightly.

"Hello, can I help you?" he asked suavely, getting a proper look at the woman. Her hair was a dark brown, and she had one or two grey hairs peeking out. Her features were soft, and gentle, and her eyes were wide and bright, her lips full and pale pink in colour. However, looking closely Eames could see wrinkles starting to form on her brow, though she only looked slightly younger than him. Eames was thinking that probably he'd slept with her sister or something like that.

"Yes, I do believe you can help me Mr Eames," she replied coldly, blue eyes blazing.

At the sound of her voice Eames's spine tingled. Looking closer he saw that if she'd had no wrinkles, longer hair and was 16 years younger he would have recognised her instantly. Standing in front of him was a now 32 year old Alice Cook.

"Alice?" he asked, opening the door some more so he could get a better look at her. She was wearing a loose brown shirt and jeans, very different to the vibrant colours and lycra she'd worn at college.

"It's good to see you," he said simply, not quite sure of what was appropriate to say.

"Look Eames, I'm not here for chitchat, can we go somewhere your colleagues can't see us on the security camera?" she asked seriously.

Eames frowned, and instead angled the security cam so it was now facing the wall.

"Here's good," he replied casually.

Eames observed how she opened and shut her mouth slightly before speaking, a habit she hadn't had 16 years ago. He'd always been good at picking up mannerisms and quirks, and all the signs, from the bags under her eyes that were poorly concealed and the way she crossed her arms across her chest told him one thing: she was tired. Very tired.

"I need a favour," she said, placing her hands on her hips.

"What sort of favour?" Eames asked suggestively, leaning on the wall.

Alice took a big step back before continuing. "Not that sort of favour. I learnt my lesson last time,"

Eames backed away and nodded.

"Ok then, what?" he asked. "Money? A place to stay?"

Alice paused, glancing at the ground then at the dingy little car that was parked by the building.

"Sweetie, you can come out now," she called out to the car.

Eames watched carefully as the car door opened. Out slouched a sullen looking teenager who glared at Alice then at Eames.

"Mom, why are we even here?" he whined, towering over her.

"Jason, please, I asked you to behave," she instructed, placing a hand on her forehead.

"What are we doing here, who is this guy?" he groaned, sizing Eames up.

The kid was only a few inches shorter than Eames, and was a full head taller than Alice. His hair was a light brown that flopped messily into his eyes. He looked to be about 15, and was wearing tight black jeans and a black and red hoodie with a giant pocket at the front that he had tucked his hands into. His face was contorted into a permanent scowl.

In short, Eames was instantly annoyed by him.

"He's... an old associate," Alice replied, carefully choosing her words.

Eames snickered at this, which earned him an icy glare from Alice.

"What exactly do you need me to do?" Eames asked, getting annoyed very quickly at the kid's attitude.

"I lost my job in San Francisco on Monday. Our apartment got repossessed on Tuesday. I came here to look for a job and a place to stay, but he's been warned by the police three times already and I've been told that I can't leave him alone," Alice explained wearily.

"What exactly was he warned for?" Eames asked, not wanting to draw the attention of the police to him and the rest of the team.

"Defecation of public property," the kid replied, smirking as though he was proud of it.

"He's been caught spraying walls a bunch of times, and they've said that if he does it again then he's going to juvie," Alice added.

"And you want me to..." Eames trailed off, waiting for Alice to finish the sentence.

"I need you to keep an eye on him while I look for a job and a place for us to stay," she said, eyes silently pleading with Eames.

"Look Alice, I'd love to help, but I just don't have time to be a babysitter," Eames replied, starting to close the door on them.

The kid caught the door and grabbed Eames's collar.

"Look buddy, nobody speaks to my mom like that, got it?" he hissed.

Eames pushed the kid away from him and backed away.

Alice grabbed his arm and placed him behind her, turning back to Eames she took a step forward.

"Look Eames, his father left before he was born. I just need you to stick him in a room and make sure he doesn't escape," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose with her forefinger and thumb. "Please"

Eames groaned. "Can't you find someone else? I'm in the middle of something really important right now,"

Alice paused now, looking at the ground.

"There is no one else," she murmured almost inaudibly.

Eames shut his eyes, knowing the verbal beating he would get from Cobb, the smug look he would get from Arthur.

"How long?" he asked.

"A week at most," Alice replied.

Eames drummed his fingers on his forearm.

"Fine, but no longer than a week, after that I can't take care of him," he stated.

Alice nodded, and turned to the kid, pulling him a few metres away.

Eames heard snippets of "be good" and "don't rebel" before Alice led him back towards Eames.

"Thank you Eames, I won't forget this," she said as the kid slouched unhappily past Eames.

"Neither will I," he muttered as he closed the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Eames grabbed the kid by the shoulder as he was about to enter the main room of the warehouse.

"Ok, this room is off limits," he stated, steering the kid to one of the old storerooms.

"Why?" the kid asked. "You running a secret drug ring?"

Something like that, Eames thought, shoving the kid through the door of the storeroom.

"Well, there's some paint and spray cans in here, your mom said you like defecating public property right? Well here you can go wild, do whatever you want," Eames said boredly, closing the door behind him.

Making his way back to the warehouse Eames was greeted by strange looks and smirks.

"Care to explain?" Cobb queried, eyeing Eames suspiciously.

"Wrong address," Eames replied calmly, sitting back down by the mirror.

Hours passed, Eames had finally cracked the grandfather and Cobb was very pleased. Ariadne had gone to get some supplies for the model of a level she was building and Arthur was clicking away on his dinky little laptop.

Eames had packed away his things when Ariadne returned from getting her supplies, a puzzled expression on her face.

"Did someone go into the storeroom?" she asked everyone.

"Why?" Cobb asked, standing up.

"Oh no reason just that the door was open when I got there and someone had spray painted the walls," she replied, calm yet confused.

A loud cry from a door on the other side of the warehouse attracted everyone's attention.

"I knew it! You are running a drug ring!" the kid cried, turning and running the other way.

Eames cursed as he and Cobb chased after him.

"Who the hell was that?" Cobb exclaimed, dropping behind as Eames's feet pounded across the floor.

"I'll explain later," Eames called back, now a fair distance ahead of Cobb. Eames leaped down the stairs, and as he ran out the front door he caught the back of the kid's hoodie, heaving him back inside, quickly checking that no one had seen.

The kid struggled, but Eames had a slight height and weight advantage and heaved him slowly, but surely back up to the warehouse main room.

Placing him on his own recliner, Eames pinned the kid's arms to his sides. The kid struggled relentlessly, and Eames sighed.

"I'm going to start by asking you very nicely to calm down," Eames said calmly, annoyed as the kid continued to thrash.

"Arthur, mind bringing the PASIV?" he asked the Point Man who was standing behind him along with Ariadne and Cobb.

Arthur brought the silver case over and set it down by the recliner.

"What the hell are you doing?" the kid cried out, struggling to get free as Eames prepped the needle.

Once the kids was plugged in and had stopped thrashing Eames let go, and plugged himself in.

They were standing in an art gallery, Eames could see the kid a few metres away, looking at an abstract piece of bright red, black and gold paint splashed haphazardly across the canvas. The kid was cleaned up, and wearing a white shirt, black tie and pants.

"Interesting piece," Eames said nonchalantly.

The kid didn't look at him and continued to look at the piece.

Eames glanced at the tag.

Abandoned

Jason Cook

Glancing at the kid Eames noticed that he wasn't actually looking at the piece, but rather gazing blankly at the floor.

Eames tapped him on the shoulder and gestured for him to follow Eames outside.

Once outside Eames watched in disapproval as the kid took out and lit a cigarette.

"You know those are terrible for your lungs right?" Eames asked, not slightly put off by the lack of response. "Have you ever heard of dream sharing?" he enquired, leaning over the balcony.

"You mean that failed military program?" the kid asked, blowing out a puff of smoke.

"Yeah, that one," Eames replied. "Do you know what happened to it?"

The kid shot him a sideways look. "Didn't it just die out?" he asked, turning to face Eames.

Eames noticed him taking in Eames's movements.

"What are you doing?" Eames asked, watching the kid's back stiffen as he turned away. "Dream sharing didn't just die out; it became a whole new breed of illicit activity,"

"How?" the kid asked, taking another puff from the cigarette.

"People like me create a world for a subject, the subject fills the world with their secrets, and we steal them. Simple," Eames explained, using the same explanation Cobb always used. Come to think of it Cobb was usually the one explaining things to new recruits. Though, the kid was not a new recruit. He was a nuisance, a nuisance that Eames needed to deal with quickly.

"Are you saying..." the kid looked around, watching the people around him carefully.

"Yeah," Eames said, picking up a glass of whiskey from a tray nearby and taking a swig. "We're in a dream. My dream to be exact,"

The kid looked down at his cigarette suspiciously.

"Yeah, those things aren't great for you in here either," Eames said a bit quieter, noticing that a few people were staring.

The kid dropped the cigarette to the floor and put it out with the heel of his shoe.

"So what exactly do you do?" he asked, watching a lady in a red dress go past.

"I'm what's known as a Forger," Eames replied, smirking as the kid continued to watch her. "And I'd stay away from her; she's one of my best impressions,"

The kid looked at Eames pointedly. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"It means, kid, that if there's a subject who's particularly fond of a beautiful woman then I become her as a means of extracting information," Eames explained.

The kid looked deep in thought.

"Can you do anyone?" he asked.

Eames nodded. "If I study them properly, then sure. Anyone,"

"How?" the kid asked, now looking genuinely interested, which made Eames chuckle.

"I'm afraid that's classified," Eames replied, setting his glass down on a table.

The kid rolled his eyes and started to walk away.

"But, if you want to know more, then you'll need to trust me," Eames continued, looking out across the city. It was night, and the lights from buildings spread out around them like a sea of stars. The building was impossibly high, and looking up Eames saw that it extended far into the clouds.

"I don't do trust," the kid replied coldly. More of Eames's projections were glancing their way, and the kid was making too much noise. Eames noticed that a few members of the gallery's security were looking their way, hands on the small black guns in their pockets.

"Look kid, if you don't trust me you're going to get shot, so I'm asking you to just co-operate," Eames said under his breath, carefully watching his projections as they slowly edged closer to them.

The kid was looking wary now, and backed slowly away so he was now next to Eames, elbows resting on the balcony.

"What do we do then?" the kid asked quietly, eyes watching the projections carefully. Eames watched as one of the waitresses slowly wrapped her fingers around a serving knife.

"Now," Eames began. "We jump,"

The kid watched in disbelief as Eames heaved himself over the balcony, and fell quickly, down, down, down.

The kid shut his eyes, not wanting to see.

Now that Eames was gone the people were approaching fast. Some had knives, some had forks, and the security guards had their guns out and were loading in clips.

Jason felt his breathing hitch. He didn't want to die, not even in a dream, but he didn't want to just leap off the balcony of a building that was above the clouds.

He'd never been good at making split second decisions, and now the pressure was on. Watching the people approaching menacingly he backed into the balcony. As a person with a long bread knife in hand ran towards him he heaved himself over the balcony, screaming as he fell.

Jason's eyes opened as he coughed violently, trying to figure out how he'd gone from falling from a building to lying on a recliner chair.

Looking around he saw his mom's "friend" sitting across from him, watching him expectantly. Standing around the room were three other people. A stocky man with short dirty blonde hair stood by the door, hands in his pockets. A tall, lanky man with greased black hair stood by the silver case, smirking not so subtly. At the back of the room was a young woman who was making something out of boards of plywood.

Eames leaned over and took the needle out of the kid's arm. He looked dazed, and incredibly confused, which made Eames very happy.

"Are you going to run away again or can we relax?" Cobb called out to him, blocking the doorway with his body. The kid slowly sat up and shook his head.

"What exactly happened?" he asked shakily. Eames could see that his hands were shaking slightly and his back was hunched over protectively.

"When you fall in a dream you always wake up right before you hit the ground right?" Eames explained, observing how the kid's eyes were wide like a toddler's, taking in the words and surroundings.

The kid stood up slowly, trying not to fall over.

"Take it easy mate, first time dream sharing is never easy," Eames said, standing in front of the kid and pushing him back into his recliner.

Glaring up at him the kid obliged. Eames walked over to Cobb, who was still glaring daggers at him.

Cobb walked silently into the hallway, Eames following obediently.

"Well, care to explain?" Cobb demanded, staring impatiently at Eames.

"A woman from my past turned up and asked me to babysit her kid while she looks for a job," he explained. Cobb looked like he wanted to ask something else, but didn't.

"Well, now that he knows what we do, and I'm assuming you informed him, what are we supposed to do with him?" Cobb demanded. Eames ran a hand through his hair, letting out a breath he'd been holding in.

"Leave him to me, I've pretty much got gramps down to pat, so I'll take care of him over the week," Eames conceded, not so happy that his week was lost.

"You'd better, if he leaks this sort of info we're dead," Cobb threatened, eyes dark and menacing. As Eames started walking away Cobb grabbed his collar. "Dead," he emphasised.

Eames smiled lopsidedly.

"What are you worried about Dom, it's nothing I can't handle," he said shrugging and going back into the main room.


End file.
